No ancient brass or bronze vessel is here,
just a very modern Moka pot, it’s clear,
with a genie trapped in the stainless steel
who serves up warm magic that is real.
But why does he dwell in a coffee pot?
He had no lantern from the Middle East
to serve as home, so he settled for the least
awkward alternative: he’s not conservative
and happy to smell like a caffeinated beast
because none of his powers shall decrease.
And now I enter the scene, as in a dream,
to rub that pot, but not to clear the grime:
I’m waiting for the water to boil in time,
for the steam to erupt in a fragrant cloud,
and the genie to rise, uncanny and proud.
Three wishes granted, says the coffee sprite,
to cure your doldrums and to bring delight!
But avaricious wishes are forbidden here,
no bags of gold or gems, I’m afraid, my dear.
My spells all run on roasted Arabica beans,
and operate purely through culinary means.
Your first desire must be incredibly strong
to wake the sleeper and push the day along,
a shot of dark espresso, gloopy and black,
to insert a dinosaur’s spine into your back.
And now I smile and make my bold request
and the genie stirs himself with mystic zest.
His pressure builds, the liquid starts to pour:
a rich espresso bubbles from the tiny spout
and forms a spreading puddle on the floor.
But it holds the power of a thousand suns
and through my veins the lightning runs.
Now, the genie says, for wish number two,
a different style of magic we must brew.
This second wish must be a frothy dream
floating on a cumulus of curdled steam
like a hydrogen balloon without a crew.
And so I request white and foamy skies
and watch carefully as milky bubbles rise:
a cappuccino slowly fills a colossal mug,
more comforting than a knitted winter rug,
a mountain peak of froth with a dusted crest
where weary men can lay their heads to rest.
The genie shines: a spoon of silver bright
and gyrates in the kitchen’s morning light.
The final wish, he insists, requires a twist,
a sweeter spell like the most delicious kiss.
It must be chocolatey, a silky smooth design
where raw cocoa and the coffee beans align.
I beg the entity for mocha, deep and sweet,
seeking true sanctuary in an ultimate retreat.
The genie drops in a chunk of dark cacao
and weaves a spell of chocolate magic now.
The swirl of brown and black begins to fuse,
blends into a shade to chase away the Blues.
Three wishes done! the coffee genie shouts
as he dispels all my sluggish morning doubts.
I have no gems or gold and there is no myth,
but look at all the joy I have been gifted with!
He dwindles back down into his metal shell,
into the vessel where the grounds cool well.
The lid snaps shut, the kitchen is quite still,
just three empty mugs on the window sill.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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